


Not Knowing When The Dawn Will Come (I Open Every Door)

by nerbert



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (I guess?) - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Future, Developing Relationship, Existential Crisis, Existentialism, Gen, Immortality, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 10:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11644218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerbert/pseuds/nerbert
Summary: An existential love story told through twelve thousand years of hockey.





	Not Knowing When The Dawn Will Come (I Open Every Door)

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this whole premise is based on the brilliant online work 17776: What Football Will Look Like In The Future (google it), which you dont technically need to have read to understand what is going on here but I seriously recommend it because it's pretty brilliant and my writing pales in comparison. 
> 
> If you're not interested in reading that the basic premise is that on April the 7th 2026 people stop dying and stop being born and are basically immortal. What do they do with all this time? Play football mostly. But what happens to hockey? More importantly, what happens to hockey players when they play the game they love for thousands of years?

**2008**

 

They're young, so damn young when they make that promise. Far too young to tie themselves to the metaphysical ball and chain that is eternity, but how were they to know? They had barely made it out of of their adolescence when they stared down the team at the other end of the ice. A huge swarm of red and white bodies all fused together as they wiped the sweat and tears out of their eyes. It was not their year.

 

Sidney managed to find Geno before he left for Russia. In the days after they lost the cup final, it felt like neither of them had spoken a word. When Sid gave soundbites to the press, it was like he was speaking underwater. He felt the air leave his lungs and the sounds vibrate through his chest but nothing in his ears felt like himself. Sid talked and talked, but he hardly said anything. Geno withdrew into himself, his face fell expressionless. Sid found it unnerving, like he had done something terribly wrong.  He had to make it right before it was too late.

 

The two sat out on Mario Lemiuex's back patio, sipping their way through a pack of bud light. For once, no one else was home apart from them. The big house empty and quiet. Sid didn't like it. He took Geno's lead and kept drinking. Soon enough words spilled out.

 

Neither of them were drunk, but perhaps it would have been an easier excuse to brush it off if they had. They sat, leaning close to each other, looking out at nothing and wanting desperately not to be alone.

 

"We're going to play hockey forever, right?"

 

Geno nodded.

 

"You and me?" Sid whispered, holding out his hand.

 

"Forever." Geno promised, taking it.

 

The problem was, forever turned out to be far closer than either of them dared to imagine.

 

 

 

**2009**

 

They're on Mario's back patio again, but they're not alone. The pool is overflowing with dozens of wet hockey players. The wood under their feet sticky from countless spilt beers. They're both standing there with the cup between them. Sid looks up from where he was reading the names of his childhood heroes to see Geno.

 

"Forever?" he asks.

 

Sid grins. 

 

 

 

**2011**

 

Geno is saying something, but Sid doesn't listen. He's knows it's rude to treat a friend like that, but today just isn't his day. None of them are anymore.

 

"Sid?" He asks, voice as loud and clear as a bell. It's the first time in weeks anyone has dared to do anything but whisper to him. There's a tiny note of worry in his voice. Sid looks over at the couch where Geno is spread out, pillows elevating his torn knee. The darkness make it impossible for him to see Geno’s face.

 

"Be back soon, okay?"

 

"Yeah G, of course. The surgery went well." Sid gives his most encouraging smile. It will still take months of PT for Geno to be ready, but at least he has a timetable for recovery. Sid, on the other hand-

 

"No, mean you."

 

"Oh." Sid lets his surprise hang in the air. He knows Geno sounds certain, but Sid can't afford to believe him.

 

"Concussion not forever, Sid."

 

 _You don't know that._ Sid wants to bite back. No one knows. That's the whole problem.

 

"Okay," Sid rubs at his eyes. "Okay."

 

 

 

**2017**

 

Half the team is passed out on the plane, the other half not far off. Sid isn't quite there yet, awake enough to be bothered by Flower's drunken snoring. He leans over into the aisle to watch where Horny and Geno are keeping Phil company playing cards. They learnt early on that Phil rarely sleeps on planes if he can help it. Geno loses yet another round of black jack, tossing his cards into the cup and swearing softly.

 

"You cheat." He points a finger at Phil.

 

"Do not!" Phil says loud enough to warrant Haggy throwing a bottle cap at him from where he's napping a row back. "You’re just the worst at cards."

 

"No, Sid worst."

 

Sid squawks, and bottle cap hits him square on the nose.

 

"No poker face." Horny agrees.

 

"No Conn Smyth for cards." Geno shakes his head. "Sid never win."

 

"I think we won where it counts," Sid looks at the cup. It's corny, but he can't help but smile.

 

"Back to back, who would’ve thought?"

 

"Not bad, not bad at all." Phil nods.

 

"Think I could keep doing this forever." Horny snatches the bottle cap out of the air- seriously where is Haggy getting them all?

 

"Forever doesn't sound too bad." Phil says.

 

Geno looks over at Sid with a meaningful expression. Their promise has grown into an unspoken agreement. They don’t have to say a word. In this tiny bubble of euphoria, stranded ten thousand feet in the air with his team and the Stanley Cup, they feel unbeatable. They feel immortal.

 

 

 

**2020**

“You don’t have to stay,” Sid fastens the seatbelt over his lap with a click.

 

“Don’t,” Geno agrees. “But want to.”

 

“Really. You want to sit through negotiations day in day out instead of going home and playing hockey?”

 

Geno nods, looking over his shoulder as he backs out the parking lot.

 

“You hate meetings.”

 

“So do you.”

 

“Yeah, but at least everyone there is speaking in my first language.”

 

“You not want me here?”

 

“No,” Sid blanches. “No, it’s not that. It’s just. You don’t have to make this your responsibility.”

 

“You’re not only person who cares about hockey, cares about NHL.  I want to help, ran away last time and left it all for you. It’s not fair. Stopped running from problems long time ago.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Nikita starts preschool soon. Get him spot in expensive school, very hard to get. Not give it up now to go home to Russia. We both have families here now. Pittsburgh is home too.”

 

Sid peeks out the window at their city. Mid-week 10am and it’s fairly quiet downtown. People walking down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. They pass bistros and coffee shops and bars that have become frequent haunts over the years. It’s easy to let his mind wonder over 15 years’ worth of memories. He’s seen a lot of good team mates, good people, come and go. Playing here hasn’t always been easy; battling bankruptcy and injuries and years of disappointment, but he’d never give up on this place. They’ve seen a lot of triumph here, too. Him and Geno might be getting older, but they’ll be damned if this still isn’t their team and their city.

 

He’s jolted from his daydream when Geno stomps on the breaks, swearing as he gets cut off at a set of traffic lights. Yeah, they’re truly home.

 

 

The lockout only lasts three months. It’s dozens of trips flying back and forth from New York and Toronto, and hour after hour of conference calls, but at least this time he isn’t alone. For all Geno complains, he’s always there, listening and thinking every bullet point of information over in his head. It’s three frustrating months and then they’re back on the ice. They’re lined up in the locker room before their home opener when Sid pulls Geno aside.

 

“Hey, thanks for staying. It meant a lot.”

 

“It’s okay. Next lockout, you come to Russia. We play KHL together maybe?”

 

“Good plan.” Sid grins, pulling Geno in for their pregame handshake. Mentally, he does the math. If everything goes well, there shouldn’t be another lock out for years. Sid doesn’t like to think about the future in such tangible ways, but it seems very unlikely either of them would be still playing by that time. 

 

 

 

**2026**

Unlike what they’ll say in thousands of years’ time, when the idea of a few years feels like nothing but the briefest moment, nothing ever stopped all at once. The world didn’t drastically change overnight. Infertility rates increased. Mortality rates decreased. Less people got sick. It was a gradual process that grew in momentum until it all came to a head one day on April 7th, 2026. No one died. No one was born. It wasn’t immediately apparent, but aging stopped too.

 

“They’ll still grow up, right?” Kathy speaks as Sid holds Annalise close in his arms, no easy feat with a squirming three-year-old. Chloe is sitting on the carpeted floor in the doctor’s office. She’s too occupied with a toy truck to hear the quiet hum of panic in her mother’s voice.

 

“In the six months since, they’ve both reached all the right milestones for their ages. It is still too early to tell, but things look promising.” Doctor Stevens tells him. “I understand how this is a frustrating situation for you.”

 

“Us, and the rest of the world.” She huffs.

 

“You got that right. Every scientist and medical professional on earth is _clambering_ to get to the bottom of all this, the greatest phenomena we’ve ever seen. Six months and you know what we all have? Nothing. Makes you think, huh?”

 

“You keep looking?”

 

“For what? I know how scary it seems, but maybe this is a gift. No more pain or grief. A whole world of opportunity ahead of us, and for your children.”

 

“Maybe we don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, eh?” Sid looks down at Chloe, who is now butting the truck up against his ankle bone.

 

“If it ain’t broke,” Doctor Stevens smiles. She leads the four of them out of her office and back into the foyer. “I think that’s enough clichés for today.”

 

It doesn’t happen instantly, but after that day Sid feels himself relax a little. His daughters will be fine. He feels unusually optimistic. He draws on all that energy back into his hockey, keeping his head down and taking it game by game. Before, he had thought about how soon retirement would be for him, but he’s put those plans on hold. By the looks of things, they’ll be a lot more hockey to play before then.

 

 

 

**2040**

 

 “Hello?”

 

“Hey sweetie, it’s me.”

 

“Dad? What’s up?”

 

“Is now a good time?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I just finished for the day. You want to talk?” 

 

“How’s it going?”

 

“Pretty good. Went on a tour of all these old cathedrals today, you would have loved it. Lots of stairs. I think we’re going to the Louvre tomorrow.”

 

“Awesome. Take pictures for me, eh?”

 

“Yeah. How’s everything?”

 

“It’s okay. Annalise wants to go water-skiing tomorrow.”

 

“Oh god, don’t let her throw up in the boat again.”

 

“What am I supposed to do?”

 

“Grab a bucket.”

 

“She said she wouldn’t this time.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Had the hockey school this morning.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It’s um. It’s the last one.”

 

“For good?”

 

“Went through the last set of drills, had a little ceremony like we did every year. They’re all teenagers now so they don’t really need to come back. It’s not like there’s any more- We all agreed it was the last one.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“You still planning on coming back here before fall semester starts?”

 

“Yeah, of course. I’ve got my flight back from Zurich booked on the 18th.”

 

“You want me to pick you up?”

 

“It’s fine, I’ll get a cab. No trouble.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“I know what your schedule is like, Dad. You’ve got a big season ahead of you.”  

 

“I can afford to miss an hour of training, kiddo.”

 

“I know. It’s fine. Really.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Your knee isn’t too bad is it? You could take another year off if you need to,”

 

“It feels good. All this new medicine I’m never down for too long. What do you want for your welcome home dinner? Let me guess…”

 

“Lasagne?”

 

“How did I know you were going to say that?”

 

“I’ve got to go, me and some friends made reservations down town.”

 

“Okay, have fun. Stay safe. If you need anything you can always call me.”

 

“I know. Love you, dad.”

 

“Love you, Chloe.”

 

 

 

**2044**

“So, this is it, huh?” Tanger says between bites of pizza. He chews with his mouth open like a complete slob. “No more last minute bets?”

 

“Don’t you feel kind of bad? Betting on teenagers?” Vero asks while Catherine looks over at her husband with disgust. Tanger smiles, wiping sauce from his chin.

 

“Eh.” Flower shrugs. “It’s our last chance. Might as well have fun with it, right?”

 

“Right.” Geno agrees.

 

“You weren’t so keen on bets when Nikita was drafted.” Sid reminds him.

 

“That was different! Can’t bet on my own son. Don’t know any of these kids.”

 

The TV screen pans over where the final draft class of the NHL is sitting with their families. All these kids look so young, it’s hard for Sid to believe that was him nearly forty years ago. 

 

“Who’ve you all got going first?” Duper re-enters the media room with a massive bowl of popcorn. None of what any of them are eating are strictly on their diet plans, but they can afford a few cheat days in summer.

 

“My money’s on Morin. Gotta go with a Frenchie.” Tanger says.

 

“Goalie too. Always smart to pick a goalie first.” Flower nods sagely.

 

“I heard they might want that big Finnish kid.”

 

“Who told you that?”

 

“If it was Ovechkin, he full of bullshit.” Geno buts in. Sid laughs at that, because it’s mainly true. For a few years now there’s been a small in-league betting pool. Ovechkin has yet to correctly predict a first overall draft pick.

 

“Heard it might be Kekoa.” Sid says. He hasn’t placed any bets this year, but he has an intuition.

 

“The Hawaiian kid?”

 

“Yeah, he’s got a wicked shot from what I’ve seen. Crazy good skater. Gonna be a pain in the ass to defend against.”

 

“Start taking notes, Tanger.” Geno smiles.

 

“Fuck off. Since when do you do anything in the off season but skate a few laps and go fishing?”

 

“Better than sit on fat ass, eat pizza. Lazy.”

 

“My ass is not fat.”

 

“Well,” Catherine says patting Tanger’s leg. “I didn’t want to say it now but-”

 

“Fuck all of you – Hey!” Tanger prods Sid with his foot, where he sits on the floor laughing. “You don’t get to laugh! Fucking captain fat ass!”

 

“Shut up, it’s starting.” Duper reaches for the remote and turns up the volume.

 

The round table of NHL panellist do one for rundown of the top contenders for the last first over-all pick. Marc Morin, goalie. Oskar Aalto-Singh, center. David Kekoa, center. Then, they cut to Bettman standing at the podium with the owners of the Seattle Sea Lions.

 

“ _Crisse,_ can you believe Bettman is still running this?” Flower is immediately shushed by Vero.

 

“Alright. Betting pool is officially closed. Let’s do this.” Tanger sets his phone back down.

 

“With the first overall pick, the Seattle Sea Lions select-”

 

“Oh fuck who’s it gonna be?”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“-From the Kailua Dolphins, David Kekoa.”

 

“FUCK!” Tanger yells.

 

“Sid! You’re right! How much you win?” Geno ruffles his hair and pats him on the back.

 

“Oh, I didn’t bet on anything.”

 

“What!? The odds on Kekoa were nine to one! You fucking idiot,”

 

Sid shrugs and watches Kekoa hug his mother and climb up onto the stage. He slides on his hat and jerseys and gives a big gap toothed grin in the direction of the camera. He just looks so happy to be there, Sid feels a smile tug at the side of his lips as Tanger continues to scold him in French, occasionally slipping back into English for Geno’s benefit.  

 

“So, what do we have to bet on now?” Flower asks later, after they’ve grilled themselves a proper dinner on Duper’s new barbecue.

 

“How long till the next lock out?”

 

“I think we’ve got a few more years before that.” Sid says.

 

“Sure, but it’s still coming.”

 

“Without a doubt.”

 

 

 

**2049**

“It’s happening?” Geno asks over skype call. It’s still Summer and he’s in no rush to come back to Pittsburgh just yet.

 

“Yeah, they’ll announce it in a few days.”

 

“Only matter of time.”

 

“Yeah,” Sid nods. With no new draft picks and the league in desperate need for some restructuring another lock out felt way overdue.

 

“I set up guest suite for you then?”

 

“Ha.”

 

“No, I’m serious. Come over. Still hockey in KHL.”

 

“I don’t know.” Sid scratches at his face. “I don’t want people to think-”

 

“Oh? You care what people think now?” Geno grins. “Come on, last lockouts you help. You go to boring meetings, I go to boring meetings. We did our time. Let someone else handle it. Get insurance figured out this time. Come over here, play with me.”

 

“I really want to.”

 

“So, do it.”

“I don’t want to cramp your style if you and Nikita want to play together.”

 

“Nikita wants to play too, doesn’t mean you’re not welcome. Team with three best centres? We win every game.”

 

“Okay.” Sid laughs.  “On one condition,”

 

“No. I get to be captain. You and Nikita can be my alternates.”

 

“Geno.”

 

“You always captain. My turn.”

 

“Fine.” Sid feigns a sigh, but it’s not very convincing. He really is looking forward to it. “I’ll brush up on my Russian then.”

 

He lands in the airport a few weeks later, with Nikita waiting for him by the baggage claim.

 

“Uncle Sid!” He bounds over upon spotting him, insisting on taking his luggage trolley.

 

“You have a good flight?” He asks as he steers the trolley out to the carpark.

 

“Yeah, it was okay. Long.”

 

“You must be tired.” Nikita nods sympathetically, smiling in a way that makes him look so much like Geno around the eyes. He’s got both his parents’ long lanky frame, even taller than Geno now that he’s stopped growing. The same easy going attitude, but he’s much less shy than he remembers Geno being when he was young. Then again, Geno had to learn English as he went, Nikita was brought up with it. Still, for all the time he spent in America, he is still undeniably Russian at his core.

 

“It’s okay, you can crash in your room as soon as we’re home, or you can stay up a little longer for dinner. You hungry?”

 

“A bit.” Sid admits.

 

“I think we still have some leftovers from when _Baba_ came last week. No big feast planned for tonight, sorry. Big Russian family dinner to welcome you tomorrow.” He waves as Geno’s car pulls into the waiting zone.

 

“Sid!” He cheers from his rolled down window. Nikita insists on lifting all his bags and sticks into the trunk of the car himself, letting Sid take the front passenger seat.

 

“Can’t believe you’re here.” Geno says as they finally find their way out of the labyrinth of airport parking.

 

“Me too. Not yet, anyway. Training camp next week, right?”

 

“You think you’ll make the final cut?” Nikita says from the back seat. Geno raises and eyebrow at him through the rear-view mirror.

 

“Hope so. Already booked the tickets for Chloe and Annalise to visit for the home-opener.”

 

“Awesome! How are they both doing?”

 

“Good. You know, I was always proud to help Chloe with all her high school projects, but now I have to admit her dissertation on thermonuclear engineering is a little beyond me. Annalise is in LA with her mom, getting up to God knows what.”

 

“I remember she said something about a few teams looking to invite her to training camps.”

 

“Yeah, she went to a couple. Calgary and Montreal offered her spots on the team but she’s still deciding.”

 

Once they make it back to the Malkin household its well into the evening. Sid shovels down reheated _Zharkoe_ and falls soundly asleep in the guest suite bedroom.

 

It takes a couple of days to shake his jetlag, which he spends brushing up on his language skills with the Malkin family. He feels like he’s doing terrible, but they all smile at him encouragingly. He finds Geno’s father especially patient with him. They have almost an entire conversation together without having to stop to translate words. Then again, they were mainly speaking hockey, which Sid could talk about backwards and underwater if he needed to.

 

Once they get into training camp, everything begins to settle down for Sid. The ice might be a little bigger, but hockey is still hockey. It’s still what he knows and loves.

 

The weeks fly by, and before he knows it he’s helping stuff his daughters’ bags into the boot of Geno’s car three days before the season begins. They had originally planned on staying in a hotel, but Geno (and the rest of the family) wasn’t having a bar of it. They’d been set up in two of the smaller bedrooms in Geno’s house that weren’t that small at all.

 

Before they’ve even set foot through the front door, Nikita is there to greet them.

 

“Keets!” Annalise yells, an old nickname from when they were kids.

 

“Leesy and Chlo,” He wraps each of his long arms around them in a hug. “You miss me?”

 

“Ugh, no way.” Chloe says, failing to hide her wide Crosby smile.

 

Geno and Anna hadn’t had any other kids after Nikita. They tried for a little while, but couldn’t conceive. Despite this, he didn’t seem like an only child. When Chloe and then Annalise came along, he happily adopted them as his own little sisters. While he might be a few years older than them, Nikita was in many ways the older brother they never had. They all grew up in Pittsburgh together.

 

“Too busy building rocket ships.” Nikita ruffles her curly hair and promptly gets his hand smacked away.

 

“Yeah, it’s a little more important than watching you all play hockey, but here I am.” She smiles, as everyone else groans. People often joke how the daughter of an athlete could be so smart, but they’re clearly forgetting how big of a nerd her father is.

 

“Space? Planets? Not that important, right?” He nudges Annalise. “Congratulations on Canadiennes, by the way.”

 

“Thanks, Grandpa was really happy I chose them. Auntie Taylor wasn’t. She’s just mad I’ll score so many goals on her when I play the Furies.” Annalise says.

 

“Oh, I’m totally telling her you said that.” Chloe whips out her phone from her pocket.

 

“Shit! Don’t do that oh my god she’ll shut me out for sure if she knows.”

 

The two sisters then wrestle over the phone in the lobby, until Sid intervenes.

 

 

Annalise and Chloe go sightseeing during the day, seemingly unaffected by jetlag while Sid, Geno and Nikita all prepare for their opening game. They play in a sold-out arena that night, to a crowd just as loud and electric as the one Sid remembers back in Pittsburgh. He feels a tiny pang of guilt about that, but quickly swallows that down.

 

Sid jokingly tries to convince Geno that this time he should get to walk out last.

 

“No.” Geno says immediately. “Rookies don’t go out last.”

 

“I let you go out last when you were a rookie.” Sid reminds him. “I let you have the C, you should let me have this.”

 

“Too bad. I’m still older.” Geno smiles. “Anyway, you’d hate to mess up routine.”

 

“Fine.” Sid sighs and pulls Geno in for their handshake. “Let’s kill it out there, yeah?”

 

They end up winning their home opener. Sid scores the game winning goal on the power play that Geno assists him on. Geno slams him into the glass in celebration and it feels like they’re rookies again, screaming in each other’s ears because they’ve pulled off the perfect play together. It’s been a while since Sid has had a moment in hockey that felt so shiny and new. It’s almost a novelty.

 

Sid gets a few reporters after the game, who thankfully ask most of their questions in English. He manages to work his way through a couple of soft ball questions in Russian and feels stupidly proud of himself.

 

“I’m glad we’re doing this.” Sid tells Geno once the media leaves the locker room.

 

“Glad we _could_ do this.” Geno wipes the sweat off his face with a towel.

 

Sid nods in unspoken understanding.

 

**2052**

It’s not like Sid ever planned on staying in Russia for three years, it just ended up happening that way. It wasn’t like he didn’t go home in the Summer, of course he went back to Cole Harbour. But when the NHL still hadn’t reached an agreement a year on, it seemed natural to head back to the KHL while they figured things out.

 

Player salaries, cap limits, and without drafting free agency became chaotic. A lot of problems arose. People were taking up hockey and getting good at it enough that teams were interested, but they were obviously too old for an entry draft. Then there was the fact retired players were coming back, and where would they go? Did they have to sign with their old clubs or would they need to get drafted again? Sid laughed when Mario complained about that possibility.

 

Then three years later, they reached an agreement. Sid and Geno were Penguins again.

 

“Thank god.” Geno sighs when Sid tells him he signed his new contract extension. “Worry you might leave, go play for Boston.”

 

“Shut up.” Sid wrinkles his nose at the thought.

 

They both get some surprising news a few days later.

 

“This is a really shitty joke.”

 

“It’s not a joke.”

 

“Holy shit.” Sid looks down at the front page of NHL news. “You couldn’t give me a warning?”

 

“Thought it would make a nice surprise.” Rutherford says.

 

_Pittsburgh Home Coming: Jagr Signs with The Penguins._

_After playing at least a season on every team in the League, Jaromir Jagr signs deal with the team he played and won his first two cups with._

“Wonder what they’re gonna call this. Lemiuex, Crosby, Malkin, Jagr. Four headed monster?”

 

“Well, it’ll be something.” Sid is smiles. “Geno is already has dibs for Jagr on his wing.”

 

“Ha! He’ll have to fight Mario for that.”

 

“Oh god.” Sid looks down at his phone as it buzzes in his hand. “He just texted me. He wants us all to grow out mullets. Jim, you’ve made a horrible mistake.”

 

“I think we’ll have a lot of fun with this.”

 

 

 

**2200**

There’s a steaming cup of hot chocolate waiting for him inside. He knows he should get to it before it cools too much, or if someone else comes along and steals it, but he wants to stand out on the observation deck for just a moment longer. He remembers the days when they said this wouldn’t be possible. When they said by now all the ice would have melted. All that doom and gloom is already fading away into a strange, distant dream.

 

Now, it seems like there’s an abundance of ice. Huge lumps of it float them by like silent mountains in the night. Shards of white that almost glow in the dusk light. Sid finds it haunting. A few feet away, Geno is taking photos on an actual camera, rather than his phone. A few years back he decided to get into photography for some reason.

 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Sid pulls his parka closer around himself.

 

“Really? We play hockey for two hundred years, and this you don’t believe?”

 

“You don’t think this is all a little bit much for an outdoor game?”

 

Geno shrugs.

 

“Penguins, Sid. Real life penguins.”

 

“They have those in zoos, last time I checked.”

 

“No fun. What? You don’t enjoy the view?”

 

“It’s amazing.” Sid feels like that’s an understatement.

 

He guesses it was only a matter of time. For all that hockey feels almost allergic to change, it’s hard not to notice what is happening everywhere else. Of course, it started with football. The great American sport couldn’t be contained onto one field or one set of rules for too long. People started thinking up new ways to play the game. Some fields have tripled in size so far, but they’re still growing. Rules stacking up on rules are making the sport downright maddening.

 

They saw it for themselves last time they were in Colorado. Nate had suggested it, and Geno and the rest of the team insisted on going. Something about ‘Burgh Pride’ as an excuse. They bought a one day admission, filling into the seats left vacated but the original ticket holders. If they were to come back, they’d have to give up their seats, but the usher told them it’s not likely to happen on a Sunday. Folks in that section were all at church, they explained.

 

They stayed for an hour to get a scope of the action. Denver had erected their wall on the boundaries of their zone, with three players currently occupying the space.

 

“You missed some good shit last month.” Nate informed Sid. “The guys in Territory 38 had this massive fight and split up their territory into five new ones.”

 

They saw the lone Steelers’ player in his tiny section of grass. He was sitting on a stool in his full gear drinking from a bottle of Gatorade. He spotted them eventually and waved to them. That’s about all the action they saw from that game. Sid didn’t get it, there were much more interesting games going on they could watch.  

 

Soon hockey started looking to embrace new frontiers, which all lead to this. One big outdoor game at the South Pole. Naturally, it had to be the Penguins. The whole team was on the ship a day away from the coast of Antarctica. A huge outdoor rink had been set up. Some fans had also made the journey down, but most of it was being broadcasted. There are still a lot of permissions required to visit a place like this.  Authorities prefer nature reservations to be left alone, but they make exceptions for the sake of entertainment.

 

“You’re gonna hate how cold it is.” Sid reminds him. He can already imagine all the complaining Geno is going to do. At least that will keep him entertained.

 

They head back inside to the communal room with a TV. They sit down and flick through channels drinking mugs of hot chocolate. They land on NBCSN after a while, and settle down to watch the second period of the Habs playing the Devils.

 

During the intermission, the panel brings up the St Louis Coach’s Challenge.

 

“Ugh, can you believe that’s still going?” Sid grumbles.

 

“You think it was interference?”

 

“No idea, but I mean, come on. They should figure it out by now.” Sid has read a lot of articles and watched a lot of videos on it, even sat down through a couple of college essays that had been written on it.

 

A year ago, in a regular season game between the Minnesota Wild and the St Louis Blues, the Wild scored a goal in overtime that the Blues’ coach decided to challenge for goaltender interference. The problem was, the video replays couldn’t reach a decisive answer. Since then, NHL officials are still debating whether it was a goal or not.

 

“You think they’ll ever have an answer?” Sid asks.

 

“Maybe.” Geno shrugs. “No rush to figure it all out.”

 

“All the time in the world to argue over a goal in one meaningless regular season game.”

 

“Got something better to do?”

 

“I guess not.” Sid turns up the TV so they can listen to an analyst dissect camera angles that may or may not show a Minnesota forward brushing the goalie’s glove hand out of the way with his stick. He takes a sip of hot chocolate, pleased to find it has cooled to the perfect temperature to drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to like/comment or if u have any questions/thoughts let me know :) I have no idea what I'm doing :)


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